


5 Times Hubert Almost Started a War Between Strahta and Windor

by SpooKyra



Category: Tales of Graces
Genre: 5+1 Things, M/M, Many Innuendos, Post Game, richard is such a troll, the whole gang makes an appearance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22329757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpooKyra/pseuds/SpooKyra
Summary: “King Richard what the hell are you doing to my brother?!”OrHubert is exposed to Richard and Asbel’s relationship in (his opinion) the worst ways possible.
Relationships: Asbel Lhant/Richard Windor, Hubert Oswell & Richard Windor, one-sided hubert/pascal
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52





	5 Times Hubert Almost Started a War Between Strahta and Windor

1.

“Aw man,” Pascal whines. “How is the inn’s restaurant this crowded?” She pushes herself onto her toes, glancing around almost frantically. “This place is so packed, I can hardly see my own shoes!”

“It’s peak dinner time,” Cheria comments. “I can still try to cook something, you know.”

“With what, apple gels?” Hubert scoffs. “We haven’t eaten _real_ food in almost two days.” He scowls at even thinking about eating an apple gel as a snack. 

“Whose fault is that?!” Cheria argues. “It’s not _my_ fault we decided to skimp on food to save gald.”

“Would you rather us be unprepared in battle?” Hubert shoots back. 

“Guys, stop,” Asbel interjects. “Let’s just order some food and we can figure something out, okay?”

“Well said, Asbel.” Malik pats Asbel’s shoulder before making a beeline to the bar. 

“Uh, captain? That’s not—nevermind.” Asbel waves it off. “Come on, I’m starving.”

Though the place is packed, the service itself is rather quick. They find themselves with platefuls of food, looking lost as to what to do next. 

“Oh! Oh!” Pascal points enthusiastically. “I see a table, here,” she shoves her plate at Hubert, “hold this, I’ll go get it!”

Hubert sighs, but grabs the plate without protest. His silence has nothing to do with Pascal, and everything to do with not wanting perfectly good food to go to waste. He watches as Pascal runs over and plants herself at one of the few chairs it has. Four to be exact. Even with the captain gone, they wouldn’t all fit. 

When the rest of them make it to the table, plates safely down, the question of what to do arises. Cheria takes a seat and she offers her lap to Sophie. Sophie initially tries to refuse, claiming it’s too childish, but Cheria can be awfully persuasive at times. Two chairs remain. Richard takes the third one, an action Hubert claims to be entitled. He’s not _too_ upset about it though, as the idea of sharing a chair with Pascal pops into his head. He deliberates in his mind how embarrassing it would be to ask her versus the practicality of the situation. He opens his mouth to speak. 

“Asbel, come here,” Richard says instead. 

Hubert watches in disdain as Richard pulls Asbel by the hand… onto his lap. 

“Well.” Richard nonchalantly addresses Hubert. “Aren’t you going to take the last chair?”

Hubert is, well, speechless at the turn of events. He silently slides down on the last chair, not quite sure what to make of his brother’s lack of reaction. 

The rest of the party quickly starts to dig in.

“Hey, lil bro,” Pascal says between bites. “You okay there? You look a lil red.”

“Now that you mention it, she’s right,” Asbel observes. “You haven’t touched your food either.”

“Is Hubert not feeling well?” Sophie asks, tilting her head. 

“N-No, I’m fine,” Hubert manages to get out. He takes a bite, chewing rather aggressively before swallowing. “See? I’m fine.”

“If you say so,” Asbel says with a small shrug.

Hubert makes it halfway through his plate when Richard decides to grace them with an unneeded spectacle. 

“Asbel, you should try some of this.” Richard holds up his fork. 

“Huh? Sure.” Asbel opens his mouth, making no move to grab it.

Hubert watches in absolute disgust as Richard feeds him. Multiple bites. His eye twitches and he puts his fork down as calmly as one contemplating stabbing the King next to him can be. 

“I fear that I may not be feeling well after all.” He gets up and leaves the table, not bothering to respond to the concerns the party have about him. As he leaves the dining area, he glances back to see that despite there now being an empty chair, Asbel has made no effort to occupy it. Hubert somehow manages to get to the room without puking. 

2.

There are several reasons why Hubert places himself in charge of their gald spendings. This is one of them. 

He foolishly allowed Richard to make their accommodations at an inn in Windor, giving him what should be the amount of gald to get 7 rooms exactly. Richard returned to them with 5 keys. 

“How… how did you manage to not get two more rooms? You’re the _King_!” Hubert paces the hallway, frustration eating up at him.

“The rest of the rooms were booked,” Richard simply states, narrowing his eyes. “Are you suggesting I use my status to acquire two more? Do you think I would kick out those staying here in _my_ Kingdom just for our comfort?”

Hubert looks away, too proud to admit he had in fact thought about it.

“It shouldn’t be a problem for you, anyways,” Richard continues. “You’ll still get a room to yourself.”

Hubert turns back to him, confused. “What about Asbel? We’re brothers, I figured we would share.”

“Asbel will be sharing a room with me, as you seem to care deeply about having your own.”

Hubert balls his hands into fists. Clenching and unclenching them as he struggles to come up with a retort. He sighs and decides to change the subject. “And what of the others?”

“Cheria volunteered to share with Sophie,” Richard says as if stating the obvious. “Those two are quite inseparable, it’s only natural. Besides,” he smiles rather cryptically, “they’re both happy with these arrangements.”

Hubert desperately wants to take that statement at face value; that Richard is 100% talking about Cheria and Sophie and not, god forbid, Asbel, as his gut helpfully screams at him. 

“Here, you can take the room at the end of the hall.” Richard hands him a key.

“Thank you?” Hubert answers, unsure of what to make of the gesture.

“Asbel warned me that you can be somewhat cranky without enough sleep. We wouldn’t want to keep you up.”

Hubert pales. His mind comes to a halt when Richard winks at him; instead of planning their next course of action, he weighs the consequences of doing bodily harm to the King of Windor _in_ Windor. 

“Asbel gets really chatty at night, and oftentimes he wants to spar or train to overcome any restlessness,” Richard explains, a smirk prominent on his face. He raises an eyebrow expectantly. “What? Did you think I meant something else?”

Hubert opens his mouth then promptly closes it, repeating the process several times before he gains the strength to finally speak. “Of course not!” He all but shouts. Richard is unphased, although unimpressed by his outburst. Hubert takes a deep, calming breath. “Thank you for your consideration,” he says through gritted teeth. 

“Of course,” Richard smiles at him, “have a nice night.”

The only thing stopping Hubert from punching a hole in the wall is the expenses he’d have to pay to fix it. 

3.

Hubert never admits it, but he worries over Asbel more than he lets on. Though he thrives on constantly having tasks to keep him busy, it’s nice to have a day or two off to visit his family in Lhant. He comes home to find Asbel has renovated his room, swapping out two beds for a larger one. Sophie has taken over the guest room downstairs, leaving Hubert with the question of where he’ll be staying. After many of Asbel’s apologies about taking over their shared room and Hubert’s dismissals about how the lord of Lhant should do as he pleases, they decide to put Hubert downstairs with Sophie. 

He’s not as bothered as he thought he would be with the circumstances, Sophie proving to be quite pleasant company. The only quality he deems annoying would be how observant she can be at times, though it’s useful enough he won’t complain about it (out loud). 

“You look concerned,” Sophie states. “Did you forget something?”

Hubert stares at her for a moment. Too perceptive sometimes. “Yes I did, actually.”

“What is it?” Sophie cocks her head. 

“I was supposed to obtain a… book.” He looks away.

“A book? What kind of book?”

Hubert pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, fidgeting with them slightly. “An… encyclopedia, of sorts.”

“Why?”

Hubert sighs. “Promise not to tell anyone, Sophie?”

Sophie nods, then holds out her pinky. She frowns when he simply looks at it, confused. “Shouldn’t we make it a pinky promise?”

He chuckles despite himself, a small smile on his face. “Very well,” he takes her pinky with his, “let’s make a pinky promise not to tell the others.” He pulls his hand away. “Now then. I was going to give this book to Pascal, who is supposed to be visiting later this week. Although, it slipped my mind.” Hubert pauses with a sigh. “If only Asbel had kept our room the same, I’m sure I left a copy here.”

“Oh!” Recognition flashes in Sophie’s eyes. “Are you talking about your Solar Power Pals?”

Hubert’s eye twitches. “They are not the Solar Power Pals, they are the _Sunscreen Rangers_!” He fumes out. “But,” he calms himself down, “you are correct otherwise.”

“I think Asbel still has them.”

“Really?” Hubert asks excitedly. He clears his throat, embarrassment flushing his face. “I suppose I’ll check tomorrow morning, it’s rather late right now.”

As if on cue, Sophie yawns. She flops onto the bed, an action Hubert would normally scold Asbel about but would let slide for her. He decides to follow suit on his own bed, not quite flopping down but doing the mature (as he would call it) equivalent. He falls asleep shortly, dreaming of the Sunscreen Rangers. 

When Hubert awakes, the sun had barely risen. If he wanted to be a decent human being, he would wait at least another hour before waking Asbel up with his knocks. But between his anxieties and his duty as (annoying) younger brother, he makes his way up the stairs to his old room. He knocks sharply on the door twice. There’s no response, not that he expected one right away. He knocks twice more, waiting for a moment before raising his fist to knock again. Before he can knock, he hears shuffling approaching the door. 

“Who…?” Asbel’s sleepy voice greets him from behind the still closed door.

“It’s me, brother. I’d like to go through my old belongings.”

He can hear Asbel’s muffled groan. “Can’t this wait?” Despite his complaints, the door opens. 

“May I come in?” Hubert asks for confirmation. 

Asbel steps away from the door, gesturing to enter. He yawns. “What’re you looking for anyways?”

“Sophie told me my books are still on the shelves, correct?”

Asbel blinks, taking a moment to process the question. “Oh. Yeah, they’re over by your desk.”

“Thank you, I’ll go take a look.” Hubert makes his way over to the shelf above his desk, skimming through the many volumes he’s collected over the years. Distantly, he hears Asbel enter the connected bathroom, running water from the sink. As his fingers brush over each spine, he feels the need to break the silence. “You were recently in Barona, right?”

“Mhmm,” Asbel hums out.

“How are things in the capital? I’ve heard that King Richard recently employed Pascal in a project.”

“Barona is currently prospering greatly.” 

Hubert jumps at the voice that is most certainly _not_ Asbel’s. He instinctively brings out his weapon as he turns toward the source of the sound. There, in Asbel’s bed, lies King Richard himself. Shirtless.

“Windor has managed to clear up most of its debt to both Strahta and Fendel,” Richard continues, pushing up to lean on his elbows. “Pascal has been a great help in designing inventions for both countries that Windor helps to fund. Thank you for asking,” Richard says pleasantly, as if Hubert had personally asked him _and_ he wasn’t held at knifepoint.

Hubert says nothing, but glances away, looking at anything _but_ Richard casually laying in Asbel’s sheets.

“How are things in Strahta? Also do you mind putting that away, we wouldn’t want to stain Asbel’s sheets anymore.”

“ _What—_ what does _that_ mean _?!”_ Hubert keeps his weapon out with a steady hand. 

Richard sighs exasperatedly, but a small smile graces his face. “Asbel spilled a bit of wine last night.”

“And why, pray tell, were you having wine _in his bed?_ ” Hubert is flabbergasted by this entire conservation, and Richard is certainly not helping by leading him to misconstrue his words.

“Didn’t he mention he’s attending a formal event in Barona next week?” At Hubert’s confused look, he continues, “I was teaching him how to do it with the grace a lord should have.”

“I...see.” Hubert finally pulls his weapon back. “Wait a second… that still doesn’t explain why you were in his bed—are _still_ in his bed.”

“Oh, that.” Richard sits further up. “I didn’t want him to be embarrassed. And as for why I’m here, well, let’s just say I had a _lot_ of wine.”

“I suppose that… makes sense.” Nothing about that makes sense. Before Hubert could make another comment, Asbel enters the room again.

Richard finally moves to get out of bed. Hubert thanks every god he knows that he’s still wearing pants. “I should probably get going. Asbel, I’ll need my shirt back.”

Right here and now, is when Hubert wishes he could travel back in time and stop himself from entering the room, book be damned. He would gladly empty his pockets of gald to buy a brand new one if it meant he didn’t have to see Asbel nod and then make to take off his shirt. Hubert walks out and slams the door. When he makes his way back to Sophie’s room, she looks up from braiding a sopheria flower crown. 

“I heard a loud noise, did something happen?”

“N-No, it’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

Sophie nods, although uncertain. She takes a moment to observe Hubert. “Where’s the book? Did Asbel not have it?”

Hubert glares down at his empty hands. He suffered through all of that, and for what? “I’m not sure,” he admits. “Something… unexpected came up.”

A mix of recognition and realization flashes in her eyes. “Oh! Was Richard there?”

“Yes. Yes he was,” Hubert grits out.

“I hope he’s still here, I wanted to give him some more sopherias.”

“Sophie, is this,” Hubert hesitates, “is this a common occurrence? Richard being over, that is.”

Sophie nods with a smile. “He comes to visit Asbel and I. It makes us all really happy.”

“I see,” Hubert says, and that’s that. 

4.

If Hubert has to wait a second longer, he swears he’ll combust on the spot. 

He knew his brother was hopeless, but who takes over an hour to put on a suit? Even with a bath, which he hopes Asbel has taken, it shouldn’t be taking this long. He paces the castle’s hallway, adjusting his cuffs occasionally. The sooner he gets there, the sooner he can leave after making his appearance. And the sooner he leaves, the less likely it is he’ll have to deal with intoxicated women wanting to dance with him. It’s bad enough that the President of Strahta’s daughter is making an appearance tonight, and that he’ll be expected to dance with her; but, as a high ranking member of the Strahtan military, and possible future presidential candidate, he must make the effort to attend these atrociously lavish events. On the bright side, or at least he thought so initially, his brother being the lord of Lhant means he’s also expected to attend. It’s nice to have Asbel around, as it can be rather suffocating with only Captain Malik or, god forbid, King Richard. 

He takes off and polishes his glasses for a solid 2 minutes, then puts them back on and glares at the door Asbel disappeared into. This is just too much. He reckons he’s waited long enough, and thus stomps over and aggressively knocks. 

“Asbel, get your ass out here _now_!” He gets no response. “Fine then! I’m coming in, and if your suit isn’t on then I’ll skin you alive.” 

Hubert barges in easily, the door not even locked. The room is empty, Asbel nor the suit to be seen anywhere. At least, Hubert thinks, this means Asbel is dressed. Probably. 

He exits the room and slams the door shut, startling a maid carrying a basket of towels. 

“Excuse me, miss? Have you seen my brother, Asbel Lhant?”

The maid scrunches her face up in thought. “Oh yes, I think I saw him heading down that way earlier.”

Hubert turns to the direction she points. Oh no. That path leads to the King’s quarters. Internally he scowls and curses as he offers the maid a smile and a thanks. 

Though he’s tempted to leave Asbel and head to the ball by himself, it wouldn’t exactly look well due to him being responsible for bringing him. Hubert steels himself before making his way down the hallway he wants to avoid at all costs. When he gets to the only room at the end, he hesitantly knocks.

“Who is it?”

Hubert should’ve known Richard would be there. He decides to ignore his question, getting straight to the point. “Is Asbel there?” He can’t quite hide the disgust in his voice. 

To his surprise, Richard opens the door. Hubert quickly turns around when he sees he’s in a silk robe, his hair still slightly damp. “My, you clean up nicely, Hubert.”

Hubert once again ignores that comment. “Forgive me, Your Highness, I wasn’t aware you were in… such a state.”

Richard laughs at that. “Asbel, your brother is here to collect you,” he calls out. 

Hubert turns back around at the sound of footsteps. Somehow, he’s not surprised at this turn of events. Asbel is dressed, just not in the suit Lady Kerri had specifically tailored for him. Instead he wears an outfit eerily similar to the style of Richard’s clothes, thigh high boots included. 

“What is that,” Hubert asks, but it comes out more as an accusation than anything.

“Well,” Asbel fusses with his hair, “my suit got ripped, but luckily Richard was able to lend me something to wear, as all the tailors had their hands full.”

“How could you have possibly ripped your suit in a mere hour?” Hubert should really stop being surprised at anything that has to do with Asbel and Richard together. It’s a miracle it hasn’t caused him any heart problems. 

Asbel makes eye contact with Richard. 

“Never mind, please don’t answer that.”

“I assure you, it’s not what you’re thinking,” Richard interjects. “Probably,” he adds on as an afterthought.

“Do I _want_ to know?”

Richard offers him a smile. “It was rather amusing. Seeing as you’re his brother, I assume you’d be interested in hearing how Asbel managed to tear his suit from falling off the bed.”

Asbel makes a face. “I can’t believe you Richard! You’re selling me out to my brother??”

Hubert might have laughed a little, might have smiled and asked to hear the whole story, might have teased Asbel and bonded with Richard. But he didn’t. All because Richard apparently has no shame.

“Oh don’t look at me like that, Asbel,” Richard croons, taking Asbel’s hand and gently tugging it. “I’ll be sure to make it up to you after the ball.”

Hubert makes a gagging noise, but Richard pays him no mind. Instead he runs a critical eye up and down Asbel’s body. 

“You’ll certainly need some help getting out of those clothes.”

Asbel tugs at the cravat around his neck. “I probably will,” he admits. “I have no idea how you can wear things like this on the daily.”

Richard laughs, good naturedly. “I rather like seeing you dressed up like this, perhaps you should learn how to.”

Hubert cannot understand how the hell Asbel didn’t seem to get the obvious innuendo, or if by a slim chance he did, how he could react so casually. He knows his brother is as dense as a rock, that much is obvious from all that time spent traveling with him and Cheria, but this—this is a new level of denseness. 

His musings are cut short as Richard speaks once more, his tone more like the one he uses in public meetings. “If you’ll excuse me, I need time to get ready. I hope to see both of you at the ball.”

“Likewise,” Hubert grits out, before the door is closed in his face. He’s halfway down the hall when he realizes that Asbel is not beside him. 

  
  


5.

His first mistake was going to Malik for advice. Hubert cannot believe he allowed himself to to actually listen to him and do what he suggests. And now he’s paying the price, standing before the portal to the Amarcian Enclave, flowers and chocolates in hand. Malik leaves him quickly after escorting him to the top of the mountain, patting him on the back and leaving Hubert with the option of potentially freezing to death or going through with the plan. He hates Malik so much. 

The freezing temperatures do him well though, as he steps onto the stone without hesitation, desperate to escape the cold. With the same adrenaline driving him to seek shelter, he makes the trek over to Pascal’s house. His movements become slower and sloppier with each foot as he approaches, doubt and embarrassment taking over. He can’t believe he’s doing this. Pascal will surely laugh at his outfit, and does she even like flowers and chocolates? This whole setup seems way too old fashioned for a girl like Pascal. Hubert scoffs, leave it to Malik to not get with the times. 

He’s already here, already made the long trek from Zavhert up the mountain, he can’t back down now. Summoning all the courage he has, he knocks twice on her door. No one answers.

Strange, Hubert thinks, as he swears there were voices in there. He knocks again, this time calling out, “Pascal? Are you in there?” When he gets no response, he tries the door knob. Surely she won’t mind, the whole gang has already been there multiple times. The door knob twists and swings the door open, Hubert quickly stepping inside and closing the door.

“Was that the door?”

Hubert spins around at the sound of Asbel’s voice, almost dropping both his flowers and chocolates in surprise. _What the—_

“Don’t worry Asbel, it’s Hubert.” 

“King Richard what the _hell_ are you doing to my brother?!” Hubert cannot believe his eyes. Asbel is _blindfolded_ and Richard is holding a rod with—oh no. Oh god no. 

“Calm down and let me explain,” Richard orders. The command strangely gives him clarity, and he’s able to regulate his breathing enough to not be overwhelmed by anger? Disgust? Shock? Hubert doesn’t know. All he knows is that it’s way too much. “You’re looking for Pascal, I presume?”

“Don’t… don’t just change the subject!” 

“I’m not,” Richard says, annoyed. “She left the enclave an hour ago after requesting our help in… testing out some of her new inventions.” 

Hubert looks around, seeing a multitude of different gadgets and machines. “I can believe that,” he says as he pushes his glasses up. “However, it doesn’t explain why my brother is blindfolded and why you’re holding,” Hubert’s face flushes, “...a riding crop.”

“Oh that’s simple, we decided to make a game out of it. A guessing game of what the object could be,” Richard explains. “Thanks for ruining this round, by the way.”

“Yeah Hubert,” Asbel pipes up. “I almost had it figured out too.”

Hubert balks. “It’s not _my_ fault! How was I supposed to know?”

“You were nowhere near close to getting it, Asbel,” Richard talks over him. “Your last guess was a spider.”

“That’s ‘cause you kept dragging it over my thighs! I thought something was crawling on me until you smacked me with it.”

Hubert wants to cover his ears, maybe let out a scream. The fact that Richard had done something so… erotic and yet Asbel still has no clue. The second hand embarrassment is too much for him. He barely registers his hands letting go of their possessions before hearing a thump. 

“Flowers and chocolates, someone is truly smitten, I see,” Richard observes.

“Maybe they’re not for her!” Hubert shouts defensively. “And even if they are, what’s it to you?”

Richard throws his hands up mockingly in surrender. “It’s just surprising, is all. And a bit old fashioned, I have to say.”

“Well then, what would _you_ suggest?” Hubert’s second mistake is asking Richard for advice.

“Pascal is an eccentric woman, you’ll need to think bigger if you want to win her heart.” Richard is smiling to himself, eyes alight with a private joke. “Try to think like her—no scratch that, try acting like her!”

“Act like her? That is the most absurd idea I’ve ever heard,” Hubert says with a scoff. Although… maybe he’s on to something. 

“Quick! What would Pascal be doing right this moment?”

Hubert thinks for a hard second. He mimics her twirl.

Richard claps once, loudly. “That’s good, now keep going.” 

He’s about to go poking around in her many inventions when he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. Richard raises the hand not holding the crop and brings it to Asbel’s cheek. 

“That’s your hand,” Asbel says smartly.

“Indeed.” Richard swipes his thumb across his lips. He turns back to where Hubert is staring at them. “You’re not acting like her. Pascal wouldn’t let anything interrupt her work.”

“I suppose that’s true.” It’s one of the qualities Hubert admires about her, even if it keeps her from basic hygiene practices. He supposes he’ll have to work on that quality.

“Ah ah,” Richard tsks, waving the crop in the air. “What would Pascal say?”

“Y’okay,” Hubert mumbles out. This is truly mortifying, but Richard isn’t laughing at him at least. And he already feels like he’s on the brink of an idea. Maybe Richard isn’t such a bad guy. 

Asbel lets out a soft moan. “That feels good,” he sighs out. 

Hubert looks over to see Richard rolling something over Asbel’s shoulders. 

“Oh! That’s gotta be the massager Pascal was telling me about.”

“Mhmm,” Richard hums out, applying more pressure into his movements. “It seems you’ve won the game, Asbel.”

“I did?” Asbel pulls up one flap of the blind fold, blinking multiple times as his eye adjusts to the light. 

Richard slaps his hand away, blinding him once again. “Keep that on,” Richard commands. He manages to draw out an appreciative groan from Asbel. “You want your reward, don’t you?”

Hubert does _not_ like where this is going. “Will you two _please_ just get out?!”

Richard chuckles. “Someone’s eager to be alone with Pascal.” He does a sweep of the room with his eyes, then goes over to grab a small box. “I believe we’re done here anyways, come on Asbel,” he grabs his hand and coaxes him to stand, “we can continue this back in my quarters.”

“Excuse me?” Hubert asks, scandalized. Maybe one of Pascal’s inventions will suddenly blow them all up and save him from having to think about the implications of that. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Richard says with a smirk. “I think you have more pressing matters at hand.”

Hubert watches as Richard leads Asbel, who’s still blindfolded mind you, out of Pascal’s house. Good riddance.

  
  


+1. 

Asbel is suddenly in front of him, back facing him and sword drawn. Hubert stares up at him, adrenaline blurring his vision, as he thinks, _holy shit I could’ve died_. Asbel quickly cuts down the enemy before falling onto his knees. Hubert picks himself off the ground, his eyes immediately locking onto the growing red stain coming from Asbel’s side.

“Brother!” Hubert immediately begins casting a healing spell.

Asbel clutches at his side and winces, his left arm dangling uselessly. “Are you okay Hubert?”

Hubert balks at that. “You… you’re asking _me_ if _I’m_ okay?! I’m not the one with blood soaking through their coat, idiot! How could you be so reckless? Look what happens when you constantly try to play the hero!” He can’t stop himself from shouting, his panic quickly turning to anger at Asbel’s actions.

“That’s enough, Hubert.” King Richard runs up to Asbel’s side. “Had he not intervened you would’ve been in a much worse state,” he scolds. Richard tears off his cape without hesitation and uses the fabric to apply pressure to the wound. “Men, gather the finest doctors in Barona, he needs urgent care,” Richard commands. He gently picks Asbel up, careful not to shift him too much before taking off towards the castle, whispering something Hubert can’t make out in Asbel’s ear. 

Hubert’s mind catches up with him and urges him to follow. He trails closely behind Richard the whole way there and insists on being there even as the doctors tell him to wait outside. He is eventually kicked out of the room, as there is limited space and Asbel’s condition is critical; he leaves with minimal protest, his care for Asbel’s wellbeing winning over easing his own conscious. It helps that Richard is here as well, patiently waiting and putting his trust in those inside to save his brother. Hubert takes in a shaky breath.

“Thank you,” he says, voice just above a whisper.

“Hm?” Richard glances over at him, but Hubert can’t quite meet his eyes.

“You were right, back there. I couldn’t believe he would do such a thing, and I let anger get the best of me rather than keep a level head. I can’t imagine what could’ve happened had you not been there,” he admits.

“You’re not the only one worried,” Richard says. “When I saw… what happened, it felt like time slowed down. I’ll admit, I was scared out of my mind, but I knew that if I didn’t get to him I would never be able to face myself again.”

Before Hubert can reply to that, the door opens. Both Richard and himself both bolt to stand up.

“How is his condition?” Richard asks.

“He’s stabilized now, but there’s only so much healing artes could do for him. It seems the monster that impaled him had some kind of venom, and seeing as it’s an unknown species, we don’t have a cure ready yet.”

Richard nods. He summons a knight. “Go out and gather the remains of that monster.” He turns back to the doctor.

“He currently has a high fever and will need a lot of bed rest. His arm is also recovering from a clean break in the bone.”

“I see,” Richard says. “I will keep watch over him, there’s already a basin and cloth in the room, I presume?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Richard dismisses them, then makes a beeline into the room. 

“Wait!” Hubert interjects, following him. “Let me take care of him, this was my fault after all.”

Richard shakes his head. “You have your duties in Strahta to attend to, and Asbel would hate to hear you neglected those in favor of him.”

“And yet, you’re allowed to?” Hubert cannot believe the hypocrisy of his words.

“I am the King of Windor, I can simply do my paperwork here and send my advisor to meetings. This is my decision and there is no one who can stop me. You have duties in Strahta and cannot just abandon your country for what could be weeks.” Richard is using his tone saved for truly important meetings, his voice leaving no room for any arguments. “I promised to protect him, just as he does for me.”

Hubert reluctantly allows Richard to care for his brother, finding truth in his words despite how much he wants to protest. “Fine, but you must send word of any changes to his condition. I will also visit whenever I’m able to.”

“I see no problem with that,” Richard accepts. “You’d best be on your way. I’m sure the president wants a full report on what happened.”

Hubert can’t argue with that, and yet he’s still reluctant to leave. It’s not that he doesn’t _trust_ Richard, he’s just unsure of the level of medical knowledge Richard has. Though, he supposes if something were to go wrong, Richard does have plenty of healers at his beck and call. Perhaps this is indeed the best course of action. “I suppose I’ll take my leave now,” Hubert says, but lingers in the doorway.

Richard doesn’t say another word, instead brushing Asbel’s bangs away from his forehead. He leans over and presses his lips to the exposed area. Hubert decides he’s lingered long enough. 

When Hubert finishes his duties early a few days later, he decides to board a ship to Windor. Zero letters have made their way to his office, and the radio silence has kept his anxiety levels above normal, pushing him into workaholic mode. A soldier salutes him when he steps foot into Barona’s port. He nods in response before striding up to the castle. He ignores all offers of assistance, making a beeline to the room he remembered last seeing Asbel in. He doesn’t bother knocking, instead he barges into the room. 

Asbel is still bedridden, but his eyes are half lidded and his left hand, still in the sling, is occupied by running it through soft golden hair. Richard lies there, slumped over in his chair, head lying on Asbel’s thigh. Asbel’s right hand currently trapped by Richard’s hands. Asbel looks up. 

“You’re okay,” Hubert breathes out.

“Yeah,” Asbel says, then winces at how hoarse his voice sounds. He strokes his fingers soothingly through Richard’s hair when he stirs lightly. He eventually settles back down. “He’s been like this for at least an hour, I don’t think he’s left my side the past few days.” Asbel shifts his attention, drawing Hubert’s gaze over to the stack of paperwork building up beside the bed. 

“He’s kept his word,” Hubert mumbles out. 

“Huh?” Asbel asks, voice laced with sleepiness. 

“It’s nothing, you should rest if you’re tired.”

Asbel shifts ever so slightly, the action stirring Richard again. This time, Richard raises his head, slowly blinking and looking around. He spots Hubert first, then notices Asbel is awake. “Asbel,” Richard says, desperation in his voice. 

“Hi,” Asbel sheepishly smiles, “Richard.”

“Asbel you’re okay. You’re okay. Asbel,” Richard can’t stop repeating his name. It makes Hubert want to gag. Though, he supposes it might be just a little endearing, only a little bit. 

“Yeah,” Asbel softly says. “I’m okay, just a little,” Asbel yawns, “sleepy.”

Richard once again brushes the bangs off Asbel’s forehead, then stands up to kiss it. “Your fever has gone down, but you should still rest.” Richard grabs Asbel’s right hand, placing a kiss on it as well. “I’ll be right here Asbel.” He punctuates his words with a chaste kiss on Asbel’s lips. 

Hubert finds that, after all the tenderness and care displayed, he doesn’t mind it. 

**Author's Note:**

> hi i'm like 10 years late to graces but i love them


End file.
